Turning the Tables
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: REPOST. Severus Snape has finally been uncovered as a spy. Hiding from Voldemort, searching for his blood, he tries desperately to free himself from the world around him. Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, has a terrible decision to make. Angsty Fic.


Turning The Tables

REPOST DUE TO REVIEW-I WANTED TO MAKE IT BETTER.

**A/N: OK, yes, I know, another one. But I have had lots of snow days at college and...love writing Snape...so have written lots of things. But this is slightly different. I am taking an important aspect of the Harry Potter saga and turning it on its head to show just how brave Severus Snape was. So it's AU. And I know...it's terrible what I write! But hopefully it might give another perspective...anyway, hope you enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it...and if you have the time a review would be much appreciated! Thank you!**

**EDIT: My anonymous reviewer has made some good points—so thank you for that Alex. I know the storyline seems a little irrational; perhaps there needs to be some sort of prologue to show just how close Snape and Dumbledore are, to show why Dumbledore will not do the deed, as it were. I am presenting a different scenario altogether—it is very AU, and I have stated this...just me playing around! However, I have taken on board some of your comments, as to why Snape cannot kill himself and how the ending works—hopefully now the story makes a little more sense and is more successful? Thank you for the criticisms...they will make the story better. **

**I hope! :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OF ITS RELATED CHARACTERS/EVENTS/LOCATIONS.**

*******

All the lights are out. He made sure of that. As he ran across the hall, up the stairs, into the bedroom, he knew he was leaving footsteps, but what could he do? A concealment charm would never work with dust—and even then, how much time would it give him? Because his time was swiftly running out.

Around him there is nothing. No movement. His ears are listening, always listening, for some new, foreign, alien sound. His breathing is low, slow, so as to not disturb the world around him. He wonders how much time he has left.

A creak. He turns his head slightly towards the noise—is this it? He freezes, not even daring to breathe, listening for another noise.

Something speeds past his head. He jumps, grabbing his wand—but no. It was just a bat. He gathers his breathing, levels the rhythm, scolds himself for jumping so easily. But if he is found...

He pulls his knees tighter to his chest, feeling desperation attack his rapidly pumping heart—when he is found they would not hesitate. For there is only one thing that he is to them.

He has already tried once. Raised his weapon and placed it to his forehead; tried to mutter the words of the incantation.

But no. They wouldn't come. He knew they wouldn't—the beginning of the end. He is so far into the shadow that the shadow controls him; he cannot get the words out. Every thought is no longer private—so he does not think at all.

How much time does he have left?

All the lights are out. But he can still see. Entering through the front door, hood pulled over his face, he can see the evidence that someone is here. Footsteps on the floor. Hurried footsteps, leading along the hallway, up the stairs, across the corridor.

Into the master bedroom. He stops at the door and looks. The room is simple; a bed. A chair. A wardrobe. A desk. A radiator.

He draws his wand—for it is here that the footsteps disappear. It is here that he is hiding. He makes his footstep into the room slow and deliberate.

A footstep. Clear as day; terrifying as night. He swallows his dry throat, pulling his knees tighter to his chest and clamping a hand over his mouth to make his breathing less obvious. Perhaps...if he just stays still...

He pauses, waiting to hear another sound...to find him. There are only a few places he can hide in here. The silence is lying, for he knows that there is someone here. But the other was always good at concealing himself if he wanted to. He whispers the incantation for light—and suddenly the room is filled with shadows.

He takes a step forward, making the sound loud and deliberate.

Another inhalation—quicker this time—and his practiced ear locates the sound. His eyes move to the bed.

He takes a step forward, making the sound loud and deliberate.

Now he is next to the bed—but his eyes do not find what he searches. So he turns to walk to the other side.

He takes a step forward, making the sound loud and deliberate.

He has to move. He can hear the footsteps—perhaps if his spell is quick and a surprise, he can escape. But he cannot keep running and hiding forever!

"Show yourself!" Severus Snape leaps from his hiding place beneath the bed, brandishing his wand. His hair is wild, blood smeared across his white face, hands shaking. He pauses, almost in surprise, but more in relief, "Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore lowers his wand slightly. "Severus." He holds out his arms to the younger man, "My boy."

The embrace is warm and protective and reassuring—for a moment Snape is fooled into believing that he is safe now. But no—he would never be safe again now.

"What happened, Severus?" Dumbledore can only see fear.

"A trap. Cunningly laid and foolishly sprung." Snape sighs, "It would all have to finish in the end."

"And he is coming for you?"

"Yes. I escaped barely."

"So I see, dear boy." Dumbledore reaches out and uses his thumb to wipe some of the blood away. "What are we going to do?"

A flash of pain across the white face. "He is getting closer." He grips his left forearm, "I cannot run forever, Albus. He will find me."

"I know." Albus murmurs, "But what else can we do?"

Snape paused, looking into the blue eyes for more than a moment, "There is something..."

"Severus!" A voice calls from outside the window. Both soldiers for the Light glance out—and there, in the dark, is Voldemort...with his Death Eaters surrounding him. "Come out...come out...wherever you are..."

Snape presses himself against the wall, paler than ever. "I cannot escape."

Dumbledore looks out at Voldemort, "We must find some way."

"There is no way! Wherever I go, whatever I do, he will find me!" Snape is scared, and it is that emotion that colours his words, "The Death Eaters want me in front of them so they can make me pay for my crimes. It won't be a quick, merciful death, no, the Dark Lord will not let that happen. They want to hurt me—I have seen it before!"

"Then what do you suggest, Severus?"

Snape swallows. "Kill me."

Dumbledore stares at him, "Pardon?"

"You need to kill me." Snape says, eyes fixing on Dumbledore's, "Please. Stop him from finding me."

"Severus." Dumbledore shakes his head, "You ask too much of me, I cannot do that."

"Would you ask it of me?" Snape demands, challenging their relationship. "If it were you in my position, would you ask me to kill you?"

Dumbledore cannot answer him as they both know what the correct response will be. "Severus, why not just kill yourself?"

Snape looks tortured for a brief moment, "I can't."

Dumbledore is clearly confused, "So you would give that task to me instead?"

"No." Snape stares down at his feet, "I've tried. He won't let me."

Snape glances back out the window as Voldemort calls his name, "Severus!" He turns his attention back to Dumbledore, "Please, Albus, I am willing to beg. You cannot let me be found by him..."

"You forget Severus that your mind is open to me! I can stop you doing anything; you can't Apparate and you can't die...so you cannot escape me...." Voldemort calls; his tone is almost teasing; he sees this as a game, not a matter of life and death.

Snape cries out, pressing one hand to his forehead. Dumbledore catches him as he falls to his knees, holding onto Snape's elbows, "Do not ask this of me, child. I cannot kill you."

"Then you would leave me to die at the hands of him?" Snape whispers, the pain in his head too much to bear.

But nothing compared to the pain in his heart; "Please, Albus!"

"It is too difficult!" Dumbledore stands up and turns away, "I will not kill the thing I love most in the world!"

Snape's eyes glitter with the tears that have threatened to fall for so long; tears of fear and anguish and worry. "I cannot be given back to him." He mutters. "Please. Please, Albus!"

Dumbledore stares at the younger man, as they both listen to Voldemort.

"You have ten seconds to come out of the house Severus before I come in to find you. You will not escape me this time. I know you are too weak to Apparate; you are completely alone now."

"Ten."

Snape stares at Dumbledore, waiting for the older man to make his decision. Dumbledore stares back, conflicted, "Severus...I can't."

"Nine."

"You have no idea what awaits me, Headmaster, please, you have to take me away from this!"

"Eight."

"You have no idea what you are asking me to do, Severus! Killing you is no easy task! Think about the damage to the soul killing you will give me!"

"Seven."

"What about my soul, Headmaster? Mine? When I am given back to him? He won't rest until I give him all the information I have been keeping from him—he knows of my true loyalties, he knows what I possess!"

"Six. Severus..."

"Severus I trust your abilities to stay sane, I do...I know you too well, the information that you hold is irrelevant, for you have been gone for so long...I know that you will not break..."

"Five."

"How can you?" Snape is desperate; the countdown is weighing on his shoulders, he has finally come to the end of his tether. "All my life I have done things for you! Now why won't you do this one thing for me?"

"Four."

"You have said it yourself, Severus, you will never escape him! Why not just give yourself in now? He might simply kill you...you could tell him you have no information to give." Albus is trying so hard to find another route—he will not kill Snape.

"Three. Severus, your disobedience is beginning to irritate me."

"Albus." Snape remains on his knees, clasping his hands together, "I beg of you. This one small service—it is nothing. Pretend I am nothing...just please, do not send me back to him this time!"

"Two."

Albus and Severus stare at each other—both are unwilling to give in—they both have their reasons but both think they are right. "Please, Headmaster, you mean everything to me...don't do this to me!"

"One."

Albus pulls out his wand and points it at Snape. Tortured black eyes meet tortured blue eyes. "I cannot do this." Albus murmurs.

"Coming ready or not, Severus!"

Dumbledore shakes his head—"I am so sorry, Severus." He mutters the words of a spell under his breath. Snape waits for the green light—but none comes.

There is something warm around his wrist. He looks down and sees black light wrapped around his wrist—he follows the path with his eyes—to the other end tied around the leg of the radiator. "No!" He cries, tugging at his wrist.

Dumbledore lets his brow crumple, his eyes glistening with tears, "I will not kill you, Severus Snape. I am not strong enough—and for that I am truly sorry."

"Albus!" Snape is scared, "Please! Please!"

Downstairs, the door slams. "Search every room!" Not Voldemort's voice—no, he waits outside.

"You can't do this to me!" Snape sobs.

Albus Dumbledore takes one last look at the man he professes to love, and then Disapparates.

"You bastard, Dumbledore!" Snape screams, "I trusted you! I did everything for you!" He rips at his wrist desperately, reaching for his wand and grabbing it from the floor.

"I will not let you do this to me! Neither of you!" Now he has the focus—he can do this—he can, he will not let either of them beat him.

"Ava—"

"Expelliarmus!"

But someone has beaten him to it, and before he can finish the spell, they are there, and he is wandless.

Snape stares up at those come to take him to his death, still thinking about Dumbledore—how could he?

Struggling violently, Snape is pulled out to meet Voldemort. The pale faced Dark wizard watches as his prize is thrown in front of him. Words are spoken, but Dumbledore cannot hear them. He simply watches from the window of the bedroom next door to where Snape had hidden, feeling dead inside.

He sees Snape spit upon the ground in front of Voldemort's feet, still hoping for a release—anger him so much that Voldemort is simply offended.

Voldemort laughs and raises his wand.

But he cannot stay and watch as Snape is tortured. As the sound of his protégé's screams fill the air, he finally disappears and heads back to Hogwarts.

Sitting in Hogwarts with the Fire-Whiskey, the roaring fire drowns out the sound of the crying and the liquid drowns the dead feeling inside his chest.

He blames it on the war; there had to be casualties; and continues to drink.

So he can simply forget.

*****

**A/N: *hides from Dumbledore fans* I don't know what came over me. I just was thinking about this scenario! I am really, really sorry to anyone I offended...but a review of what you think would be much appreciated! Thank you! :)**


End file.
